Thursday, May 8, 2008

Pirates of Paradise

Bound by a deep devotion to the feeling of the wind in the sails the Pirates of Paradise have sailed off to different shores. So, here I stand at the Gates of Paradise, close to the Sinner's Tree with smoke in hand and beer to wash it away. Tear stained skies kissed by the dewy mist of the early morning sun, once again greet the day. Perpetually on vacation has become a new motto of mine, for it seems work is just a means to get somewhere. Far far away the Pirates seem to have drifted, but a big hearty, manly ARRRRRGHHH. Come on the sloop john B, my grandfather and me, Round Porpoise Key we did roam.

Monday, May 5, 2008

Super sessions

To past, present, and future farm dwellers,

I was told to come by two friends and so I did because they have a knack for things that are fun and good. There were guitars and flowers and a girl who could really sing and was especially good when she closed her eyes. And then good food because everyone can cook there and a bottle of wine I found in the woods and a little dog named Baby that lived up to its name. It rained and then it was sunny and I didn’t have to wear the cloths I arrived in until I was arriving again in Boston. People were coming and going and some were staying in a rare synthesis of people, those itinerant few, or maybe there are as many as I hope there are and the whole week seemed like a fugitive occasion that after a moment seemed as normal as growing food and then eating it.
So what happened was, I flew in real late and stole my friends bed, and there was a rooster that didn’t know what time it was and for that week neither did I, except at night everyone came round to listen and play songs because always, the best things happen after hours, like that time I got hit in the eye with a firefly while riding a bike, and then I knew what time it was, probably because Keith was in the wooden house not far off singing—It’s Business Time.

All the Best,

Dan DeFraia